


see the lightning in your eyes (see 'em running for their lives)

by tfm



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfm/pseuds/tfm
Summary: Post episode 70.After a disastrous encounter with Dairon, Beau travels to Vasselheim to seek the help of the Stormlord. On the way, she learns a few things.





	see the lightning in your eyes (see 'em running for their lives)

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously an extrapolation of a conversation that hasn't happened yet. So this is what could happen (but probably won't)
> 
> Thanks to @thegaysmurf for all her help in DND Mechanics and listening to my rambling. The title was also her idea.

When Beau leaves, it’s in the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep. At least, that’s what she thinks, when she makes her way down the staircase of the _Lavish Chateau._

It had been a last minute decision for all of them to come. Beau had planned on staying in Rosohna, until she’d had that clusterfuck of a conversation with Dairon, and had the rug pulled out from under her life.

Not that anyone else knows that yet. When they’d asked how the reunion had gone, she’d grumbled, “fine,” and refused to elaborate. She doesn’t think any of them believe her, but they at least know her well enough to leave it alone for a day or two. Jester’s the only one that had tried prying, but she’d been stopped pretty quickly by a gentle touch on the shoulder from Fjord, and the reminder that they have to get to Nicodranas.

So Beau is not entirely unsurprised when she finds Caduceus in the bar, sipping on tea. ‘Thought I might be seeing you,’ he says, casually.

‘Am I that obvious?’ Beau asks. She has her backpack on her shoulders, and her staff in hand. Not that she has much of anything in the backpack anymore. Not now that she’s been...well, stripped of her position.

Ex-monk of the Cobalt Soul doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

It’s been so long since she’s worn anything that isn’t blue, but she’d kept some of her old clothes from Kamordah – a pair of dark brown breeches, and a plain white shirt. The shirt will be filthy after even a single day of travel; it had no doubt been designed for rich men to attend fancy parties in, not to travel cross-country for hundreds of miles.

‘Maybe not to everyone else,’ Caduceus says. ‘But then, I guess I’ve always been a perceptive sort of guy.’ He sips his tea, calmly. ‘Tea?’

‘No,’ Beau says. She has to get going. She’d told Yussah she’d be there at dawn, and if she leaves it any later, then other people might start stirring. ‘Can you...’ she says, and hands him a scroll of paper. ‘I wrote a letter. For the group.’

It’s not a particularly long letter, and it says the things that Beau expects she’s supposed to say, like “don’t worry, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but please don’t come looking for me.”

‘We have to go to the kiln,’ he reminds her. Beau pauses.

‘You’ll be fine without me,’ she says.

…

The moment that they’d landed in Nicodranas the previous day, while the rest of the party had been busy shaking themselves off. Beau had found Yussah, and pulled him aside.

‘I need a favor,’ she’d said.

Transportation to Vasselheim, in exchange for a favor from her to be repaid at a later date. Beau had half-expected the wizard to be laugh in her face, but she had been surprised. He had agreed (perhaps even a little too readily), and she wonders exactly what kind of favor he’ll ask in return.

But, that’s future Beau’s problem. Beau’s first – only – priority at the moment is to figure out a way to talk to the Stormlord, seeing as how sitting around and waiting for it to rain apparently isn’t working.

So she makes it to Vasselheim without issue, and she’s about twenty minutes into her walk to the Braving Grounds (after a ten minute chat with a bleary-eyed fish salesman about exactly what the Braving Grounds are) when she hears the message in her head.

‘ _Beau, where_ are _you_ ,’ says the frantic voice. ‘ _Caduceus said you left, and he gave us your letter, but you can’t just_ leave, _not after we lost Yasha. Please—_ ’ The message ends there, and Beau thinks for a moment, to consider how she’s going to answer.

‘Jester, I’m sorry I had to leave like that, but there are some things I need to sort out. Things that involve figuring out how to help Yasha.’ Shit, that’s more than twenty-five. Oh, well. She’s sure Jester got the gist of it.

Even still, a few minutes later, she feels the telltale tug of the tiefling trying to _Scry_. She pushes the feeling away, knowing that now she’s resisted it, Jester will have to wait until tomorrow to try again.

The Braving Grounds are not hard to find. The worshipers of the Stormlord have an entire district to themselves, which, of course, makes this the perfect place for Beau to figure out her next steps. The first thing she does is stops and stares at the enormous fucking statue of Kord that sits atop the temple.

She hoists her backpack a little higher on her shoulders, and walks up the stairs to the temple.

Someone is waiting there for her.

...

‘My name is Earthbreaker Groon,’ he tells her. He looks like an Earthbreaker, too. He’s enormous, and all of that bulk comes from muscle. More to the point, he’s fucking ancient; at least eighty. ‘I am a Monk of the Open Hand, and a follower of the Stormlord. You appear to have had some training yourself.’

The middle part of what he says causes Beau to raise an eyebrow. _Monks of the Stormlord?_ She’s never known that there had been such a thing. She blinks, and realizes that he’s waiting for a response.

‘Yeah,’ Beau says. She hesitates. ‘My names, uh...Beauregard. Of the uh...Order of the Cobalt Soul,’ she says, and then adds, in a pained voice. ‘Formerly.’

He gives her a knowing sort of look, and she responds with a helpless sort of shrug. ‘Difference of opinion on matters of state.’

‘Yes, the Cobalt Soul are not renowned for their...mercy,’ the man says, and Beau snorts. She’s not heard of any Order of monks that _are_ known for their mercy. Least of all one that’s apparently run out of a fighting pit. ‘Come,’ he says. ‘Let me show you around.’

Beau frowns. This isn’t quite how she had expected this encounter to go. She hadn’t, for one, expected someone to be waiting for her. Nor, had she expected to be given the grand tour immediately upon arrival.

But, if she wants answers, then she supposes that politeness is the best way to go. So she follows the enormous monk as he leads her past the guards, and into the temple.

It’s pretty godsdamned big, with high, arched ceilings, and black and gold marble floors. The Earthbreaker tells her that the temple is called the Trial Forge, which, in Beau’s opinion, is the coolest fucking name for a temple that she’s ever heard.

It’s actually a temple, rather than a library that’s pretending to be a temple, which is pretty cool, too.

‘You are here to fight, I’m sure,’ he says, and Beau pauses. She thinks.

She admits, that’s not what she’d come here to find out. She’d come here to find out about the Stormlord in general, to figure out the best way to commune with him, to try and get Yasha back.

And, okay, she hadn’t really been expecting to _find_ an answer here, but now that she’s _actually_ here, she’s starting to think that the trip had been worthwhile.

If she can find another way to keep training, then that’s even better.

If nothing else, then maybe she’ll find a way to punch out her frustrations.

He smiles. ‘Come find me in the Crucible when you’re ready.’

…

Beau is led to a small room, with sparse furnishings. It has a twin bed, and a small table, which is, frankly, more than enough. After all, it’s not like she’s brought much with her.

She sits on the edge of the bed, and all of a sudden feels the rush in her head of someone trying to _Scry_ again, and though she knows she can resist it, this time she lets it in. Must be Caduceus this time. It doesn’t seem like his style, and she wonders if Jester had strong-armed him into doing it.

Still.

It’s not going to do any good if she keeps blocking it out.

‘I know you’re watching me,’ she says, feeling a bit like an idiot. ‘But seriously, I’m fine. I’m trying to learn more about the Stormlord so we can get his help in getting Yasha back.’ She pauses. ‘I also kind of just need to punch some things.’ Beau can’t quite remember how long a _Scry_ lasts, so she stays in the room for the next half hour or so, just so that Caduceus can’t quite get a pin down on her (even if the only thing he pays attention to are the curtains).

She’s not quite ready for the group to know exactly where she is.

What she _is_ ready to do, though, is punch some things, so she straightens herself out, swings the staff around behind her back, and goes off to find the Crucible.

There’re a lot of people at the Crucible, watching from the sidelines, and if Beau’s not mistaken, quite a few of them are monks.

She watches a few rounds with enjoyment. The reigning champion, Beau is told, is a dwarven monk nicknamed “Beardie.” Not all nicknames are auspicious, apparently.

At the edge of the stands, there are pictures of all the previous reigning champions. One, in particular catches her eye. It’s a Goliath, but one with a beard. It’s strange. The only Goliath she’s ever seen with hair had been the Plank King, and his had belonged to someone else.

‘Beauregard,’ a voice says, and Beau jumps a little. It’s a commanding voice, and she turns to see the Earthbreaker looking at her. ‘Come,’ he says. ‘It is time for your first fight.’

Beau can’t quite help but notice that everyone is staring at her, as he leads her down into the pit. Surely in her old clothes, she doesn’t look like much. Hopefully, she can surprise them.

Unfortunately, Beau’s the one who ends up surprised. She readies herself in a fighting stance, and her mind goes blank when the Earthbreaker moves to stand opposite her.

_He’s_ the one she’s gotta fight? She doesn’t want to fight an old man, particularly one who looks like he can probably wipe the floor with her.

But, it doesn’t look like she’s got much of a choice, so Beau decides to make the best of it. She activates her lightning gloves, and goes in swinging.

He seems to absorb the lightning that she sends in his direction, which, admittedly, Beau probably should have expected from the leader of a Temple to the fucking Stormlord.

Even her strongest punches, he seems to shrug off, like she’s punching air. He, too, she imagines, must be able to center himself (far more effectively than she can), and move quicker than wind. Quick enough, certainly, that he has no trouble in getting past her defenses. Beau takes two successive punches to the stomach, and just barely manages to resist the stun that accompanies them.

‘Where do you find your strength?’ the Earthbreaker says, and the question makes Beau stop in her tracks. She’s bruised, and bleeding, and almost definitely has a couple of broken ribs. She doesn’t answer. He thrusts a palm into her chest, and for a moment, nothing happens, but then her whole body starts to vibrate. They’re barely perceptible, and she thinks were she not so in tune with her body, she mightn’t have even noticed. Then, he pulls his hand away, and looks her in the eyes.

His eyes are pure white.

The vibrations stop, and Beau feels an agonizing pain that spreads through her entire body. The only time she’s felt anything like it before is when Jester had hit her with an _Inflict Wounds_ spell.

She falls to her knees, gasping, and then the pain ramps up, and she feels the consciousness slip from her grasp.

She wakes up to a waterskin at her lips, and a large, muscular hand at her shoulder.

‘You fought well,’ the Earthbreaker says, and Beau can’t quite tell if he’s telling the truth.

‘Why are you so interested in me?’ Beau asks. She can’t quite help but be defensive.

‘I am told that you are in need of my help.’

‘Who told you that?’

He looks upwards, towards the darkening clouds in the sky.

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._ ‘The Stormlord told you that I needed help?’ Beau says, angrily. ‘Did he happen to mention why he hasn’t bothered talking to me every time I’ve asked him?’

The Earthbreaker gives her a curious look. ‘Tell me why you’re here,’ he says. It’s not a question, but Beau feels compelled to answer.

‘I’m not here to fight,’ Beau says, and she wonders if that’s the first time she’s ever actually said that. ‘I’m here…’ It’s a little embarrassing, now that she actually has to say it. ‘I need to speak with the Stormlord.’

To her surprise, he doesn’t laugh.

‘It’s a long story,’ she continues, though, really, when she thinks about how to tell it, it’s not that long at all. ‘My….friend,’ she starts, and she hesitates over friend, because friend doesn’t even come close to properly describing what Yasha is to her. ‘Is – was? – no, is, a follower of the Storm Lord. Something happened to her, and she was...consumed by darkness.’ That, too, seems inadequate to describe the horror that they had face fighting Yasha in the King’s Cage. ‘I want to talk to the Stormlord because I think he might be able to help her...snap out of it,’ Beau finishes, a little lamely. Now that she’s said it, it seems so stupid to be coming to the Stormlord, for help.

_Oh, right_. She’d forgotten the _really_ important bit. ‘She’s with the Laughing Hand; the Undying Chosen of the Crawling King. Who knows what they’re trying to accomplish.’ As she’d suspected, this part, Groon raises an eyebrow at. Not in disbelief, but in...curiosity. As though she’s not just some dropkick, deadbeat monk, expelled from her Order, and punching things because it’s fun. Okay, maybe both parts are sort of true.

She remembers how, twenty years ago, Vecna, the Whispered One, and his armies, had laid siege upon Vasselheim. Well...she’d read about it, at least. Since she’d been all of four years old when it had happened, she doesn’t remember much from around that time. Still, the Laughing Hand must seem like child’s play to Earthbreaker Groon _._

‘Rest up,’ he says. ‘You’ll need your strength.’

Beau frowns. ‘For what?’ she calls out, after him.

…

The day after that, Beau fights in the Crucible again.

Not necessarily because she wants to, but because an acolyte comes to her room, and escorts her there. Beau, who had been expecting something a little more helpful, can’t help but be a little pissed.

This battle goes about the same as the first, only this time, the sky is a little darker.

The Earthbreaker is so far out of her league it isn’t funny, and she wonders how he is getting any sort of benefit out of this. She certainly isn’t. He nose is bleeding, and she can’t see out of one eye. Beau had gotten a couple of pretty nice hits in, but nothing that does any serious sort of damage.

‘Where do you find your strength?’ he says, the same words he’d spoken yesterday, before he’d knocked her out with some super fucking powerful monk shit.

‘In my fists,’ Beau says, and it’s sort of a joke, but not really, because holy shit, she would really like to be able to take someone out with just the touch of her palm.

Apparently, though, it’s not the right answer, because he hits her with the palm again. Overhead, lightning flashes.

She wonders if the Stormlord is watching. Well, if he is, then _Fuck you, Stormlord,_ and Beau gives the metaphorical finger to the sky.

She feels that same vibration, that same agonizing pain, the same loss of consciousness. This time, when she wakes, it’s sprawled in the dirt.

Godsdamnit.

The clerics heal her broken body, and Beau picks herself up, and hobbles away, a little bit embarrassed. It doesn’t seem to matter that Earthbreaker Groon has about forty years more monking experience than her. She knows better than to get caught by the same move twice.

Dairon would have been pissed.

But then, she figures, Dairon isn’t her problem anymore. She didn’t have to give a shit what Dairon thought. Beau could die horrible tomorrow, and Dairon would go right on back to doing whatever thing she was doing. Hating the Kryn, probably.

On the third day, Beau is expecting it. Expecting the same question, and the same painful response.

Her arm is broken, and her head is ringing, but she clenches her fist, and stands to face him.

‘Where do you find your strength?’ he asks, and Beau’s getting a little sick of it.

‘In myself,’ she spits, and the Earthbreaker grins. She knows that it hadn’t been the answer he’d been looking for, but it’s not a wrong answer, either, so she avoids the wrath of his Quivering Palm. He beats her the old-fashioned way instead, with brutal, deadly accurate punches, and a beautiful Stunning Strike that takes her out for almost ten seconds.

She finds him in the Trial Forge after the crowds have dispersed.

‘Can you teach me how to do that thing?’ Beau asks, mimicking the Earthbreaker pushing a palm into someone’s chest.

He laughs. ‘I have students who have been learning under me for twenty years that have not yet mastered it. What makes you think you would be any different?’

‘I’m a pretty quick study,’ Beau says, a little defensively, but she concedes that he’s probably right. Training under Groon would, in many ways, feel like starting over from the beginning. Maybe a little bit of a fresh start is something that she needs right now.

Not too much of a fresh start, though, because, no matter how she had left things, she still intends to go back to Rosohna, and help in whatever battles there are to come.

‘Perhaps there are other things I can teach you,’ he says. He beckons for her to follow him into the Trial Forge proper (still the fucking coolest name ever). He hands her robes of red and gold to wear, and they feel soft against her skin. Completely different, and yet so similar to her vestments of the Cobalt Soul.

They meditate for a half hour or so before starting, and for the first ten minutes or so, Beau is antsy, but she sort of settles into it after a bit.

Then, he takes her into one of the training rooms, and wipes the floor with her. Again.

More than Dairon ever had, he makes her feel like she knows nothing. Like it will take an entire lifetime to accomplish even the simplest of the techniques that he’s trying to teach her.

It takes almost a week for her to harness her ki well enough to be able to knock him prone (and even then, she’s certain that he lets her).

He seems, if not proud, then satisfied, but he’s kind of hard to read.

‘Tell me about your friend,’ he says, after they finish on the seventh day. The way he says the word “friend” makes Beau think that he knows she’s skirting the edge of the truth on that one, but it’s not as though she could have said “crush.”

Beau’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean tell him that she’s super hot, and that her eyes are two different colors, and she can cleave a cultist in two with one strike of the sword. He definitely doesn’t mean tell him about her smile, or the way she laughs, or that she has a tiny scar that runs across her left cheekbone.

Not that Beau’s paying _that_ much attention.

He’s talking, she assumes, about Yasha’s connection to the Stormlord. Something that Beau admittedly doesn’t know all that much about.

‘She goes out into the storm,’ Beau shrugs. ‘Waits for lightning to strike, I guess. I don’t know, she always goes away. So that’s what I’ve been trying to do, only there hasn’t been much in the way of storms.’

‘There are many different ways to speak to a God,’ Groon tells her. ‘Even if they don’t always reply.’

Beau isn’t sure how to interpret this information.She’s not particularly sure exactly how Gods are supposed to talk to people, given that none of them have ever bothered to talk to her.

There’s Ioun, of course, but she’s never really prayed to Ioun. Not in the way that most people would generally consider praying, at least. She believes, and of all the Gods to worship, she likes the certainty of knowledge, but then, the denizens of the Knowing Mistress haven’t exactly been kind to her, of late.

‘How is your meditation?’ he asks, as if he hasn’t seen her sitting there, struggling to sit still every day this week.

‘Fucking terrible,’ is Beau’s reply. The Earthbreaker laughs.

‘I prefer meditation,’ he admits. ‘But we each find our own path.’

That night, the rain starts to fall.

Beau climbs up the side of the Trial Forge, and, because she’s feeling maybe a little bit rebellious, up the enormous Kord statue that sits atop it. From that vantage point, she can see the better part of Vasselheim, including the Cobalt Vault. Upon reaching Vasselheim, she had vaguely considered going to the Vault, considered appealing to someone a little higher up than Dairon, but the wound is far too fresh for her to follow through.

Instead, Beau sits, and watches the storm grown closer. Lighting tears across the inky black.

‘Please,’ she says to the sky. ‘Help me save her.’

Beau’s words are drowned out by the sound of thunder. She clenches her fists, the Maelstrom gloves tickling her skin in response. They’d always felt a little different when she’d worn them during a storm.

Beau closes her eyes.

When she opens them, she’s back home in Kamordah.

Or at least, that’s what her mind shows her.

Her fist clenches tightly, because of all the places she doesn’t want to be, that she never wants to be again, Kamordah is at the top of the list. Forget strength enough to fight the Laughing Hand, Beau knows she doesn’t have strength enough to deal with this.

There’s a young girl, sitting by the window, crying.

She remembers this night.

Remembers, in particular, that it hadn’t been raining. This must be part of the Stormlord’s vision.

‘I don’t want to watch this,’ she says, to no-one that’s standing there. She supposes she’s telling it to the Stormlord. As though he’s trying to tell her in some roundabout way where her strength comes from. Well, if it comes from anywhere, it certainly doesn’t come from Kamordah.

Doesn’t come from the place where she had been quashed down, beaten down, condescended, and all that bullshit. Doesn’t come from the scared little kid with no friends, who isn’t allowed to leave the house.

No, it had come much later than that.

In the basement of a monastery in Zadash, learning how to punch.

But no.

It hadn’t even been then.

It had been in a tavern in Trostenwald, meeting a bunch of people that she’s certain are assholes. It had been after a long night in Shady Creek Run, mourning a friend. It had been after fighting a hydra, a dragon, an Undying Chosen. It had been her friends working together to save her from a venom troll, had been Fjord half-carrying her across the Bridge of Whispers, had been every time Caduceus put a hand to her shoulder, and cast _Cure Wounds_.

There was strength, of course, in being independent, but not being independent had never been Beau’s problem.

The Stormlord isn’t trying to get her to remember the past, he’s reminding her of how far she’s come. Of who she’s going to need in order to help bring Yasha home.

The vision ends in another flash of lightning. Beau’s sitting alone again, but not by a window in Kamordah. She’s still atop the statue of the Stormlord, and it strikes her (no pun intended) that he may be a little pissed at her disrespect.

Beau goes back to her room, and lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She’s almost started to drift off, when a message starts to come through in her head.

‘ _Hey, Beau_ ,’ comes Jester’s voice. ‘ _How’re you doing, it’s been a while since I’ve called. We went to the kiln, and it was_ super _cool. We saw this—_ ’

Beau closes her eyes.

She misses her friends. She misses Yasha, and she misses her friends. In a way, it feels wrong that she’s here without them. After all, they miss Yasha as much as she does. And maybe – just maybe – it had been kind of shitty of her to leave without giving a proper goodbye.

‘Hey, Jes,’ she says. ‘Doing well. I should be back in Rosohna soon, if you still want me.’ She pauses. “Had a chat with the Stormlord” seems like it might be a better message delivered in person.

‘ _Of course we want you back, Beau._ ’ The next message comes almost immediately. ‘ _We didn’t want you to leave in the first place!_ ’ A pause. ‘ _We love you_. _Okay, bye Beau_.’

Beau smiles.

…

The next day, Beau doesn’t even bother to wait to led anywhere. She dresses in her red and gold robes, and goes to the crucible.

The Earthbreaker is waiting for her.

Somewhere out there, Yasha is waiting for her. Everyone else is waiting for her.

‘Where do you find your strength?’ the Earthbreaker says. Her hair is messed up, and she has a cut running from her eyebrow to her lip.

Beau harnesses her ki, and pushes him to the ground.

‘In my friends,’ she says.


End file.
